Herpanion let out a derisiveugh. Of course, that’s how rich kids think their first Instinct isn’t to find their real parents, but to worry about losing their
“You were pretty lucky, honestly. The moment you were born, the Morton family struck gold with some good business deals<b>. </b>Meanwhile, the Tate family barely scraped by for four or five years before they managed to turn things around.”
Instead of feeling grateful, Ileana grew more anxious with every word.
What if… what if someone discovered the truth about her? Would she still have a life free from worry? Would she still be able to buy whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted?
“So where are they now?” she demanded, urgency flickering in her eyes.
The detective paused. “Now? They’re doing all right, I suppose… Definitely not at the Mortons‘ level, but-”
“Find me the Tate family’s address.” Ileana cut him off, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
With a shrug, the detective dropped the conversation and unlocked his phone, pulling up a payment screen.
Ileana clicked her tongue in mild disgust, clearly unimpressed by his mercenary attitude, but she wasted no time in transferring the money.
A notification blinked: $1,000 received. The detective smiled, pocketed his phone, and reached into his coat to produce a small slip of paper–clearly something he’d prepared in advance.
“Since you pay so promptly, here’s a little bonus. This is the girl who was switched at birth.”
Ileana took the photo. The girl in the picture was beautiful, even in a stiff ID–style shot. She looked young, maybe even a little awkward, but anyone’s first thought on seeing her would be: pretty.
The Morton children were all good–looking–she wasn’t bad herself–butpared to her brothers, Ileana had alwayse up short. She’d thrown fits about it,
used the Mortons of giving all the good genes to her brothers. A nool, people never let her forget it.
Now, looking at <b>the </b>photo<b>, </b>she finally understood. It wasm that theo m <b>the </b><b>Morton </b>genes–she simply <b>didn’t </b><b>have </b>them <b>at </b>all
Swallowing back a surge of jealousy, Ileana unfolded the <b>slip </b><b>of </b>paper. An addres had been scribbled down in neat handwriting.
Without wasting another second, she tugged her cap down to hide her face and slipped out the door, gging down the nearest cab.
“Did that rude little princess finally leave?” The detective’s colleague poked his <b>head </b>out of the break room, spotting him smoking in the <b>corner</b>.
“Yeah, she went to check out the Tate girl.”
“You think she’s nning to swap back? That’d be smart. I heard some insider gossip–the Tate family’stest project is about to make a fortune.”
The detective snorted. “Like I told her, the Tates still can’t hold a candle to the Mortons. That girl looked terrified. I was going to give her a warning, but she cut me off. Not my problem anymore.”
His colleague just nodded. In their line of work, they’d seen all kinds of wealthy clients. If someone treated them with basic decency, they didn’t mind throwing in a little extra. But if they got attitude? Well, they just took the money and did the job. After all, nobody in their right mind turns down cash.
When the cab dropped her off, Ileana found herself stopped at the gate by security.
“I’m going to need you to sign in. We can’t let anyone in without the homeowner’s approval.”
“I’m just here to see someone.”
“Doesn’t matter, ma’am–still need you to register.” The guard handed her a pen, but Ileana ignored it.
After a few minutes of fruitless negotiation, she could do nothing but stand in the shade, watching cars glide in and out of the neighborhood.
This was definitely an upscale area–she only knew about it because years ago, Brendan had considered buying here. But with the kids‘ schools too far away, he’d settled for a home in the more convenient West End.